


The Party

by LulaIsAKitten



Series: Octavia Street musings [1]
Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-08 05:58:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15924299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LulaIsAKitten/pseuds/LulaIsAKitten
Summary: Autumn 1992. Nick and Ilsa’s first meeting.





	The Party

**Author's Note:**

> After all the First Kisses, and all the Nick and Ilsa, how did it take me so long to write Nick and Ilsa’s first kiss? Again, have tried to stay true to the clues JKR has given us.

Ilsa Angove had to resist the urge to bounce on her train seat, she was so excited. They’d already pulled away from Exeter and were leaving the southwest proper. The names the announcer reeled off sounded steadily more exotic, ending with Swindon, Reading and finally London Paddington. Ilsa wasn’t sure she’d truly believed London Paddington existed before today, imagining some quant station from a story about a bear that her mother had read to her when she was a child. She was on her way to the eighteenth birthday party of her oldest friend, who now lived in the capital. She’d known Cormoran Strike since she was six.

Across the table, anther old friend, Dave Polworth, regarded her with amusement. “You’ve really never been to London?” he asked. “You’re seventeen, how is that even possible?”

Ilsa shrugged. “We just never got around to going as a family,” she said. She was a little nervous too, having never been to a city larger than Plymouth in her life. She’d never ventured so far from home alone, and she was suddenly glad that they’d be meeting Aunt Joan and Uncle Ted and Lucy there.

“Where are you staying?” she asked Dave now. She hadn’t thought to wonder before. He shrugged.

“Think I’m kipping at Diddy’s,” he said. “Usually do, though the new stepdad’s a bit weird. But we’ll hardly be there.” He was one of the few people who’d known Cormoran longer than Ilsa, having met him at nursery. They’d both renewed their friendship with Cormoran whenever he turned back up in Cornwall.

Ilsa nodded. She’d not met Cormoran’s new stepfather, but she knew Cormoran didn’t like him. Lucy, Cormoran’s sister, hated him and refused to live with him, and had spent the last two years living back in Cornwall with Aunt Joan and Uncle Ted. (Ilsa had always called them that, even though they were only friends of her parents’, and it bonded her to Cormoran and Lucy, who could genuinely call Joan and Ted aunt and uncle.)

“What about you?” Dave asked, and Ilsa grimaced a little. “I’m staying in the hotel with Aunt Joan and Uncle Ted and Lucy, have to share a room with Lucy,” she said. “It was the only way mum and dad would let me come. At least they’ve let me come on the train with you. The others are making a mini holiday of it, I’m only here for one night. Mum wouldn’t let me miss any school.” She rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, me too,” Dave said. “Anyone would think A-level year is important or something.”

They grumbled about the unreasonableness of parents, and then moved on to discussing university options and interviews. Ilsa was determined to study law, but was going to need good grades to get into one of her top university choices. Dave was still choosing between engineering and maths.

The journey dragged now, hours on the train passing slowly. Dave told Ilsa about his upcoming trip to Australia that was planned for his 18th birthday.

Eventually they pulled in to Paddington, and Ilsa was amazed by the size of it. She’d already been taken aback by how much London they seemed to have travelled through just to get to this station on the western edge of it. Now as they got off the train, she looked around in awe at the huge station. She’d never seen so many platforms, so many people. And the smell of London was overwhelming and unique. It smelled of concrete, of traffic fumes, of diesel and food and smoke. And it was so loud, a steady hum everywhere they went.

Dave plunged into the Tube station with practised ease - he’d visited Cormoran several times, much to Ilsa’s envy. Her parents would never let her come, alarmed by Joan and Ted’s descriptions of the conditions her old friend lived in and Lucy’s refusal to live in the squat. Dave told her which ticket she needed, and she followed him down into the maze of tunnels deep below the city, clutching her Tube map, jostled at every turn by crowds, trying to look like she knew what she was doing and resisting the urge to cling to Dave’s arm lest she lose sight of him.

A long, rattling journey and several changes later, they emerged into the early evening darkness in Whitechapel. Dave pulled a piece of paper from his pocket that was scrawled with Cormoran’s scratchy writing and studied it. “This way,” he said.

It didn’t take them long to find the Bell pub, and Ilsa was nervous suddenly. Whitechapel wasn’t the nicest place she had ever been, grubby and dark, and the pub looked forbidding. But Dave strode up to the door confidently, so she straightened her glasses and followed him.

They plunged into the smoky atmosphere and looked around. They spotted Cormoran almost immediately, a head taller than everyone else, and he spotted them too and gave a shout and came towards them. He and Dave shook hands and clapped one another on the back, and then Ilsa was pulled into a familiar bear hug.

“Corm,” she said warmly, squeezing him tight. She pulled back and looked at him. “Good God, are you even taller? You ever going to stop growing?”

Her old friend laughed. “Think I might be done,” he said. “Six foot three’s enough, don’t you think?”

Ilsa giggled. “Well, that makes you almost a foot taller than me now,” she said. “I appear to have got stuck at five foot four.”

Cormoran grinned at them both. “It’s good to see you,” he said. “So glad you could come, it’s a long way. Come and meet everyone.”

A separate room in the pub had been set aside for the party. The band were setting up, some food was laid on tables. Ilsa recognised Leda, Cormoran and Lucy’s mother, skinny as always but very pregnant. Ilsa remembered with a jolt that she and her new husband were expecting. Lucy had been horrified. The tall, skinny, greasy man with his arm over her shoulder Ilsa assumed was the detested new husband. Joan and Ted were making polite conversation with them, looking strained, and Lucy hung back from the group a little. Ilsa felt sorry for the younger girl and resolved to take her under her wing for the evening.

Ilsa knew no one else in the room. They were mostly other people her age, she assumed friends from the Hackney comprehensive Cormoran now attended.

She didn’t miss Cormoran’s brief scowl in the direction of his stepfather, nor the way he steered them carefully away from that side of the room, instead heading for the cluster of young people sitting around the tables along the other wall. Cormoran reeled off names, and Dave greeted a few he’d met before. Ilsa nodded shyly at everyone, her eyes hunting for a friendly-looking girl she could latch onto for the evening.

“Got the smokes, Oggy,” a deep voice said from Cormoran’s other side, and Ilsa turned to see who had just arrived. Her eyes widened slightly.

The young man, clearly one of Cormoran’s new friends, was tall and lithe. Not as tall as Cormoran, but around six foot. His sandy hair was short at the back and sides but longer on top and flopped over one eye a little. His hazel eyes were warm and friendly.

He caught her eye and paused, looking straight at her, and then grinned suddenly, and Ilsa felt her knees go a little wobbly. He was gorgeous.

“Aren’t you going to introduce us, Oggy?” he asked.

Cormoran looked from one to the other, amused. “Ilsa, this is Nick, a mate from school,” he said, formally. “Nick, this is Ilsa, an old school friend from Cornwall. I’ve known her since we were little. She’s kind of like a sister to me.” There was the faintest note of warning in his voice.

Nick grinned again. “I’d better be nice to her, then,” he said. “Can I buy you a drink, Ilsa?”

Ilsa panicked slightly, unsure what to say. Asking for a Coke seemed babyish. But at only seventeen, and shorter with clear skin and glasses that made her look even younger, she’d never had a hope of getting served in the pub.

“Bacardi and Coke, please,” she said, sounding a lot more confident than she felt. Hopefully Ted and Joan would think it was just Coke and not report her to her parents. She was still trying to live down the Diamond White incident.

Nick nodded and headed for the bar. Ilsa let out a shaky breath, and beside her Cormoran chuckled. She glared at him.

He shrugged. “He’s a good bloke,” he said. “Funny, intelligent. Going to med school if he gets the grades. You’ll like him. Go for it.”

Ilsa blushed. “Stop it,” she whispered, but her eyes were dragged back to the lithe figure at the bar, to the cut of his shirt across his shoulders.

Cormoran grinned and turned to Dave to catch up. The three old friends from Cornwall were soon engrossed in conversation, the two visitors filling Cormoran in on mutual friends and any gossip.

A few minutes later, Nick was at her elbow again, and Ilsa jumped a little. He handed her her drink, and she thanked him and flushed. She couldn’t think of anything to say. She felt awkward and young and like a country bumpkin among suave Londoners.

But she needn’t have worried. Nick chatted away, and she was drawn in, soon forgetting her awkwardness and answering his questions happily. They moved to sit at the end of the table. She learned that it was his birthday party too, a joint one. He pointed out his parents and sister. She learned that his dad was a London cabbie. He described their school, and how he’d met Cormoran when he’d joined the sixth form there the previous year. She told him about their home in Cornwall and pointed out Joan and Ted and Lucy, who Nick had met briefly before, explaining that Joan was an old school friend of her mum’s. Conversation flowed.

Cormoran appeared presently. “You coming for a breath of fresh air?” he asked Nick, winking. Nick nodded and stood. He glanced down at Ilsa.

“Sneaking out for a smoke,” he said. “You coming?”

Ilsa nodded at once, drawn to keep him in her orbit. She was captivated by him, couldn’t take her eyes off his lean hands, slender fingers, warm hazel eyes, floppy hair. Her stomach was warm with butterflies and Bacardi.

She followed the young men outside. There was a small group on the pavement. Cormoran pulled the cigarettes from his pocket and offered them around.

Ilsa was fascinated and slightly shocked. She’d never seen him smoke. Nick took a cigarette, and the pack passed to Ilsa. She hesitated, but took one, not wanting to look naive or prudish. She’d never even held a cigarette before, and watched carefully to see how the others did it.

“Dreadful habit,” Nick said cheerfully. “My dad smokes, I used to steal the odd one from his packet. Might be slightly my fault your old mate smokes now.”

Cormoran shook his head. “Sometimes it’s better to smell like this than like the gross stuff Whittaker smokes,” he said darkly. To his mother’s dismay, he still flatly refused to call his stepfather by his first name.

The lighter reached Ilsa and she lit the end of her cigarette and took a tentative drag. It wasn’t too bad, she decided.

Three drags later, she felt slightly sick and decided it was one of the grossest things she’d ever tasted. Nick saw her face and laughed.

“First time?” he asked, amused, and she nodded.

“I don’t know how you can,” she managed, still feeling queasy. “I’ve never tasted anything so gross.”

“Here,” Nick took her cigarette from her, and dropped it and his own into the gutter. She smiled up at him gratefully, and saw his eyes widen slightly. There was a pause as they gazed at one another, and heat swept though Ilsa and her heart hammered in her chest.

Cormoran rolled his eyes. “I’ll just go catch up with these guys over here,” he nodded towards the other smokers. “Remember, Ils, not a word to Aunt Joan or Lucy about this,” and he waved his cigarette at her.

Ilsa nodded, the moment between her and Nick broken.

“Let’s go back in and get another drink,” Nick said.

“It’s my round,” she replied. “But...you’ll have to go. They won’t serve me.” She blushed again, feeling ridiculous and naive next to him.

Nick smiled gently, and reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ll get them,” he said softly. Ilsa’s heart jumped into her throat.

She followed him back inside, her heart fluttering again, her skin tingling where he’d touched her. She didn’t think she’d ever fancied anyone this much. There was nobody in her year at school half as handsome as Nick. She tried to get her racing thoughts under control. He was a Londoner, he wasn’t really going to look twice at a country girl, surely.

Back at the party, Ilsa was accosted by Joan and Ted, who had bought her a Coke. She took it and thanked them politely, trying not to cringe at the thought that they were treating her like a child in front of Nick, who she suddenly desperately wanted to impress. He excused himself and went to the bar for a pint, but to her surprise he came back and chatted away to Joan and Ted, relaxed and confident, remembering small snippets of a previous conversation to ask them about. He was kind to Lucy, too, and that warmed Ilsa’s heart further.

He was holding his pint and also a glass containing a small amount of clear liquid. There was a moment when the grownups were distracted, turning to see Nick’s parents as he pointed them out across the bar, and he swiftly poured the small glass into hers.

“Vodka,” he breathed in her ear, and she giggled, caught off guard both by the movement and by the feel of his breath against her ear. She shivered a little, gazing up at him as she whispered “thanks” back, and missed Lucy’s eyes widen at the interaction. It was all over in a moment and conversation moved on smoothly. Ilsa gazed covertly at Nick as he chatted on. She was utterly smitten.

A screech of microphone feedback made them all jump and drew attention to the band. Leda made a small speech, in a dreamy voice that suggested she’d been smoking something she shouldn’t despite being pregnant. She gushed over Cormoran a little, mentioned Lucy, had some loving words for her new husband. Cormoran and Lucy watched from different parts of the room with identical expressions, smiling when she addressed them, stony when she talked about their stepfather. Then Leda relinquished the microphone and the band started.

“Come and meet some of the others,” Nick said to Ilsa. “You, too, Lucy. You must be about my sister’s age.”

They rejoined the main group and Ilsa found herself next to Cormoran. She felt a little fuzzy-headed, and said a polite no thank you to the next round. She chatted to Cormoran, tried to ask him about his mother and her husband, and how he felt about the new baby, but he was monosyllabic on the subject, shutting her down at every attempt. She stopped in the end and just looked at him.

Cormoran sighed. “Sorry, Ils,” he said. “There’s no point talking about it and it just makes me angry. The guy’s a twat and I hate him, but Mum’s crazy about him. I’ll be gone in a year anyway, and I won’t be coming back. Joan and Ted have said I can spend uni holidays in Cornwall.”

Ilsa smiled. “I’d like that,” she said.

He grinned at her. “So. You and Nick?” he teased.

Ilsa flushed again. “He’s lovely,” she said. “Is he... Has he got a girlfriend?”

Cormoran shook his head. “Nope, he’s free and available to be snapped up. And willing, I’d say.” He winked at her.

Ilsa didn’t think she could get any redder. “You think?” she whispered.

Cormoran snorted. “He can’t take his eyes off you,” he said. “He’s already asked when I’m next going to Cornwall for the weekend, hinting that he’s never been, and it’s nice to get out of London sometimes.”

Ilsa squeaked a little with happiness. “He’s so gorgeous,” she confided, Bacardi and vodka warm in her stomach, loosening her tongue.

Cormoran rolled his eyes again. “Can’t say I’ve noticed, myself,” he drawled, and she laughed.

The band became livelier, and people started to dance. Ilsa found herself dragged along by Lucy and Nick’s sister, whose name she hadn’t caught. She danced with them for a while, aware the whole time of hazel eyes watching her from the table. She felt more alive, more feminine, than she ever had before, under his gaze.

Finally, breathless, she made her excuses and went back to the table. Nick scooted across to make room for her and she went and sat next to him, glowing and hot and out of breath. His eyes widened at the sight of her.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he breathed suddenly, and she blushed again. She felt as though she’d spent half the evening blushing.

“Thank you,” she murmured. She glanced up at him shyly. He paused, and then he leaned towards her. He was going to kiss her, she was sure of it. Her breath caught and her eyes fluttered closed, but suddenly Cormoran was boisterously shouting for Nick and the moment was broken.

“I’ll be back,” Nick promised, regret in his eyes, and moved away. Ilsa sat and breathed slowly, willing her racing heart to calm down.

Lucy threw herself into the vacant seat. “Are you gonna snog him?” she demanded breathlessly, her eyes lighting up. Ilsa smiled.

“I think I just nearly did, but your brother interrupted,” she replied, smiling dreamily.

Before Lucy could reply, another screech of microphone feedback drew attention back to the band.

“Oh, God,” Lucy said. Jeff Whittaker had taken to the microphone and was starting to croon a song to Leda, who glowed and simpered. Ted glared. Joan looked at the floor. Lucy sat like a statue.

Cormoran marched out of the room, followed by Nick. Ilsa hesitated, wanting to follow yet feeling she should stay with Lucy, but then Joan appeared and sat down next to the younger girl, so Ilsa excused herself and quietly followed the men. Whittaker was still warbling away, slightly off key, clearly stoned, while most of the room attempted to ignore him.

Ilsa found Cormoran and Nick outside. Cormoran was smoking furiously and Nick was stood next to him. Cormoran muttered oaths under his breath - Ilsa was pretty sure she heard the word “tosser” - and as soon as his cigarette was finished he drew out the packet.

He glared at it. “Almost out,” he said. “I’m going to the shop.” He looked at Nick and Ilsa. “You coming?”

Ilsa shook her head. “I can’t,” she said. Joan and Ted would panic if she went missing.

“I’ll just go,” Cormoran said. “Could do with a walk.” He marched away.

“Can’t believe shops are open,” Ilsa said. “In Cornwall, everything shuts at five every day. Lunchtime on Wednesdays, half day closing.”

Nick laughed. “Sounds like something from the fifties,” he said.

Ilsa nodded. “Probably hasn’t changed since then.”

He grinned at her suddenly. “I love your accent,” he said fondly. “Like Oggy’s but...more so.”

Ilsa smiled. “Been in Cornwall my whole life.”

They could hear that Whittaker had finally stopped, and the band were back on. A ballad was playing.

“Dance with me?” Nick asked suddenly, and Ilsa nodded shyly. He reached for her hand and led her back inside. His hand was big and warm over hers, his fingers strong and capable, and her hand felt so right in his, so safe.

They moved onto the dance floor and he drew her into his arms. Ilsa was lost at once, her head against his chest, her body moulding to his. His arm was around her, his other hand still holding hers, and they felt so right together. The lights had dimmed, the air felt romantic. They moved together gently, and Ilsa was carried away by the music, by the feel of him, by the moment. She could smell his aftershave and his uniquely musky scent. His head dropped down over hers, and then he was nuzzling gently into her hair, his breath warm against her cheek. She pressed a little closer with a sigh, and felt his lips against her neck, gently kissing, and her heart fluttered.

All too soon, the song finished, and they reluctantly separated.

Nick was gazing at her, his eyes dark suddenly.

“Come back outside?” he asked softly. “I want to kiss you.”

Blushing yet again, inwardly cursing herself for it, Ilsa nodded.

Nick took her hand again, twining his fingers with hers, and led her slowly from the pub and around the corner, away from the smokers. He stopped on the side street, turning to face her and gently drawing her to him, his eyes on hers. Ilsa was sure he’d be able to hear how fast her heart was beating now.

He took her face gently in his hands, and slowly, slowly leaned down and kissed her. Her eyes drifted closed.

He kissed her gently at first, almost chaste, just touching his lips to hers, withdrawing and kissing again. He kissed across her mouth to the side and back again, and then his lips lingered on hers and slowly parted, encouraging her mouth to open to his. His tongue came forward, exploring gently.

Ilsa’s heart fluttered and her knees wobbled and she shook all over. No one had ever kissed her like this before, so tenderly and with such reverence. Heat coiled inside her, tightening in her groin, and she moaned a little and pressed closer. Her tongue found his, and then his arms slid around her and pulled her closer, deepening the kiss, and suddenly he was kissing her passionately. Her head swam and she was lost in him, dizzy, clinging to him.

They kissed and kissed until Ilsa broke away, gasping, to breathe. She gazed up at Nick, panting a little, shocked, and he grinned back at her, a little dazed himself.

“Wow,” he breathed, and she giggled a little.

He leaned down and kissed her again, and again. Ilsa lost track of time, long minutes drifting by as he kissed and kissed her.

They were interrupted by the sound of ostentatious throat-clearing, and broke apart to see Cormoran approaching, having gone around a large block on his walk. Ilsa went red again and hid her face in Nick’s shirt, but Nick just grinned.

“Are you being improper with one of my oldest friends?” Cormoran enquired, and Nick laughed.

“Not in the least,” he said. “My intentions are completely honourable. I’m hoping she’ll agree to see me again.” He glanced down at Ilsa and she nodded, shy but delighted, her heart still jumping all over the place.

Cormoran grinned. “Well, assuming the caterwauling has stopped, we’d better head back to our party,” he said and Nick pulled a face but agreed. The three of them went back inside.

“There you are!” Joan said, bustling across as soon as Ilsa appeared. “I think we’d better go, dear, Lucy will be tired and it’s a little way to the hotel.” She glanced down, her eyes brushing across Nick’s hand still holding Ilsa’s, and looked back up. “Five minutes?”

Ilsa nodded, and Joan went to round up Ted and Lucy and say their goodbyes.

Nick drew Ilsa aside. “When are you going back?”

Ilsa looked sad. “Tomorrow afternoon,” she said quietly.

“Can I see you in the morning?”

She shook her head. “We’ve got tickets for one of those river tours,” she said. “And then lunch with Cormoran.”

Nick nodded, withdrawing slightly. It was as though shutters came down over his expression. “No worries,” he said lightly.

“No...” Ilsa put her hand on his arm. “I’m not giving you the brush-off, I promise. Ted and Joan have been planning this trip for ages, and they’ve paid my hotel and everything. I’d love to skip it, but I can’t.” She searched his eyes, willing him to understand. “I’ve had a lovely evening,” she said. “Magical.”

“Me too,” Nick said softly. He grinned again suddenly, and her knees trembled once more. He was so good-looking. She wanted to kiss him again.

“Come to Cornwall,” she said, impulsively. “Corm’s coming at the end of term, come with him. It’s only three weeks away. And then maybe when my parents have met you, they’ll let me come to London.”

He nodded, and bent and swiftly kissed her lips. “It’s a date,” he murmured.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I left Shanker out. It was kind of semi-deliberate. I wasn’t sure how he’d fit, and I figured it wouldn’t be his thing.


End file.
